George
by Lilly Envy
Summary: Paige, the outcast oboe player, gets a little help from a very unlikely source. ***CHAPTERS 2 & 3 UP!***
1. Levitating Reeds

Author's Note: My first story of anything to do with ghosts, and I think it turned out rather well. Don't ask me where I was inspired, I have no idea--but I think I like it. Now I need to know what you guys think! ^.^ Please R&R and if you guys seem to like it, I'll keep writing! ^.^  
  
*******  
  
Paige tried not to groan as her reed slipped from her hand and fell to the floor just before band class started. "Just my freaking luck," she muttered, raising her hand. "Mrs. Hawfield, I need a new reed!" she called.  
  
The band teacher rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "For goodness' sake, Paige! Can't you at least hold a reed long enough to put it on your instrument?"  
  
"Of course not," someone murmured from the brass section. "She's the *oboe* player." The band snickered collectively.  
  
"Go get your reed, Paige, don't just stand there," Mrs. Hawfield said, waving her hand at Paige. "We *do* need to get started." As Paige, her cheeks red, hurried across the room, she could hear the band beginning to warm up--and continuing to make snide remarks about oboe players in general and Paige in particular.  
  
She shut the door to the supply closet behind her to muffle the comments and groped around for the lightswitch. Before she found it, however, the lights came on of their own accord. "There you go," someone said, sounding as if they were to her right. Paige turned to give thanks to the person-- and nearly fainted.  
  
There was nothing remarkable about him at first glance--short, brown, uneven hair, medium height, wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, eyes an uncertain shade between brown and grey and a liberal splattering of freckles across his pale complexion. What alarmed Paige much more was the fact that he was slightly translucent and hovering about two inches from the floor.  
  
"Oh no, don't scream," he moaned, darting foward and placing one cool hand over her mouth. Paige froze in horror. "Look, I'm here to help you," he told her. "I'm George. I used to play oboe here before I died in a car accident. And I see how they harrass you. No one appreciates oboes, do they? What would the school fight song be without us?" he asked her.  
  
Paige tried to open her mouth to answer to him, but he pressed his hand tighter over her face. "It was a rhetorical question. Anyway, I'm going to help you teach that band a lesson in oboe appreciation! If I let go, will you promise not to scream?" he added, looking justifably wary. Paige nodded. Gently he pulled back his spectral hand and turned to a shelf, rummaging around for something while Paige tried to think of what she could possibly say. "Here's a box of reeds," George said before Paige could gather her thoughts. "I'll carry it for you." Paige shrugged and walked out, George floating after her with her reeds.  
  
"Hey, Paige!" one percussionist called, a snide snare drummer whose birth name was Marie but insisted on other people calling her Barbara. (No one was really sure why...) "You took an awful long time in that closet--what were you *doing*, I wonder?" she added with a smirk. The other percussionists snickered. "Wait..." Marie/Barbara said suddenly, her expression going somber. "Is that box of reeds--levitating?!"  
  
Everyone in band turned and stared at the seemingly-flying box of oboe reeds. "Jesus Christ," Danisha, one flute player, breathed. "She's a wiccan or something!"  
  
"What's wrong with wiccans?" Brianna demanded. "I'm one, you know."  
  
"Nothing," Danisha replied, "but you've never made a box of reeds fly around, either."  
  
"I am not a wiccan!" a voice that sounded eerily similar to Paige's said. Paige glanced over and saw that George was speaking for her. "Play along," he whispered. "Just look angry and wave your hands around some."  
  
Paige, feeling like an idiot, managed a scowl and waved her arms around. George darted foward and picked up various instrument cases, making them fly in crazy patterns around Paige. "I am the all-powerful oboe player, and tired of your snide remarks! You will repsect me or you will suffer!" he intoned dramatically.  
  
Judging by the stunned look on the band member's faces, George decided he was through with his show and placed the instrument cases on the floor, then pressed the reed box into Paige's hand. Paige tried not to smile as she sat back in her seat and began fitting a new reed onto her oboe. "Wow, I'm sorry," a clarinet player next to her breathed. "If I'd known you could do all that stuff, I wouldn't have been so mean before. Why didn't anyone ever tell us oboe players were all powerful?"  
  
Paige shared a smirk with the ghostly form beside her. Maybe this could be a good thing, after all. 


	2. Magic Spells

Author's note: Boy, was *this* a long time coming! Sorry for the huge wait, guys. My grandmother went into the hospital, three weeks of camp, school letting out and a parttime job all mean that I have less time to write. :) I've almost got Chapter 3 finished, though, so hold on. Also, for those of you who are fans of "For all the cookies:" That one might have to be put on hold. At least until I get my inspiration back. *sigh* I'm sorry :( *******  
  
The next day after school, Paige trudged wearily to the football field for practice. Since no one was around, she decided it was safe to talk to George.  
  
"Hey, thanks a lot," she told him, shifting her bookbag; she could feel the heavy books in it resettling. "For yesterday, I mean. That was great. And everyone was nice to me today."  
  
George faded into visibility, walking along beside her. "It was nothing," he replied with a sheepish grin. "I just said some stupid stuff and made some instrument cases look like they were floating. Besides, you needed a break. And it's not like I was doing anything else up there anyway."  
  
"Up there?" Paige asked.  
  
"Yeah, heaven," George replied, pointing . "What, you don't think I'd actually want to stay around this clumphole town? Not when I can do so many fun things up there."  
  
Paige could feel her curiosity rising. "Fun things? Really?" She tried to sound normal, but it wasn't easy. "You mean you guys don't just sit around on clouds playing harps or whatever?"  
  
George snorted. "Playing harps? Please! We--" Suddenly he clamped his mouth shut and gave Paige a dirty look. "Hey! No way! You can't talk *me* into spilling details about heaven. Are you trying to get me in trouble?"  
  
Paige sighed. "It was worth a shot," she said wistfully. "Well, I'll see you later, George," she added. "We're almost there." Dutifully the ghost faded back out, although he still hovered unseen slightly behind Paige. He hadn't faded out to avoid being sighted by the band members--Paige was the only one who could see him anyway--but he wanted to see how Paige acted by herself with the new respect she had.  
  
Scarcely had George faded into total invisibility again before a tall, muscular person came running up to Paige. His blonde hair shone in the bright afternoon sunlight, and his twinkling blue eyes seemed to give him an appearance not unlike what the ancient Greeks must've imagined Apollo to look like. The newcomer grinned at Paige and ruffled her scruffy, shoulder length red hair.  
  
"Hey, Paige! I've been hearing a lot about you lately," he greeted her. "Haven't seen you around much, though..."  
  
"H-h-hi, Brad," Paige stammered to the former trumpet player, now football captain. "Um--about me?" she asked feeling like an idiot.  
  
"Yeah," he agreed, running a hand through his hair. "Someone said that the oboe player was doing things like making boxes of reeds levitate. How come you didn't do that when I was in there, huh?" He gave her a friendly smile, revealing two rows of even white teeth.  
  
"I--I don't know," she mumbled, staring at the ground. "Um--I didn't know I could?"  
  
Brad grinned and shrugged. "Makes sense. Hey, me and a friend were gonna go catch that new movie tomorrow after school, want to come?" he asked.  
  
"Um..." Paige looked around nervously. "Well, sure," she decided. They didn't have band practice tomorrow, anyhow, and how often was it that Brad Stephens, #54, asked out an oboe player?! She should take the chance before he came to his senses. "Meet you at the megaplex?"  
  
"Right after school," he agreed. "Three o'clock. And bring a friend or two!" He turned and jogged off again, leaving Paige dazed but pleased with this turn of events. Only after Brad had walked out of the stadium itself did Paige notice that every girl in the band--and most of the guys--were staring at her in near-awe. Paige shifted her bookbag and resumed walking, uncomfortable with almost a hundred pairs of eyes all trained on her.  
  
One of the saxophone players approached her--a girl named Morgan who'd never insulted Paige or acted openly hostile and who was now apparently deciding it wouldn't hurt to be a touch more friendly. "Wow," Morgan breathed, her brown eyes shining in her coffee-colored oval face. "Do you realize who just talked to you? To *you*? The OBOE player? No offense," she added hastily. "But really--Brad Stephens! A football captain! He was out of your league even when he was a trumpet player with big ears!"  
  
Paige grinned amiably. "I know! I never would've thought it either. Can you believe the luck? I make some reeds float and suddenly everyone can't keep away from me." Her green eyes gleamed with good-humor.  
  
Morgan suddenly looked skeptical. "About that," she said in a low tone. "How'd you do it?"  
  
Paige smiled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she replied mysteriously.  
  
"Oh, come on!" Morgan sighed. "I understand it's a secret, but you can trust me! I mean, I won't tell anyone, but I'm dying to know how in case I ever need it. Not that I'll ever get my hands on a box of reeds unless I steal one again. You're so lucky that you're the only one who plays an oboe--your reed won't fit on anyone else's instrument and they just let you have a whole box...!"  
  
Paige smiled again, shaking her head. No one would believe her if she told them that while she was searching for a box of reeds, she'd found a ghostly oboe-player who'd died in a car crash and had decided to help her out. "Didn't your mommy tell you the story? The one about the first oboe player in the first high school band who wished on a shooting star that all oboe players would be all-powerful? And then it came true?" The oboe player winked.  
  
They were in the midst of the band now. "It's magic spells, I'm telling you," Marie/Barbara muttered, brooding over her snare, as they walked past her. "That's the only way you could do it, you freak."  
  
"Is it true?" Kyle asked her as he put on his quads, grinning. "Teach a percussionist something. Can oboe players use magic spells?" He kept his pleasant expression, but it was obvious that his question was only half- joking.  
  
Paige rolled her eyes. "Yeah, something like that," she replied. "Oboe players use magic spells." 


	3. Lucky Charms

Author's Note: Look, I actually managed to get 2 chapters up in one day. Weird, huh? ^.^ Especially since I'm not known for my consistency...oh well. Read. Review. ^.^ *******  
  
"Oh, these are great," Paige heard a voice say from the kitchen. "I haven't had these in FOREVER!" The statement was followed by the somewhat loud sounds of crunching and slurping.  
  
Paige wearily walked from her bedroom into her kitchen, still wearing her Garfield pajamas and barefoot. She was greeted by the sight of George hunched over the table, eating a large bowl of Lucky Charms with gusto. Milk and a few odd bits of cereal were splashed around him on the table and the cereal box sat before him, with the back of the box facing him so that he could look at the colorful puzzles on it while he ate. "Oh, hi, Paige," he said upon seeing the oboe player. "Want some? I think there's enough in here for another bowl." He shoved a bite in his mouth and tilted the box with his free hand to peer inside.  
  
"What EXACTLY do you think you're doing?" Paige asked George irritably. "You're eating my cereal! You're dead, you don't even have to eat!" She snatched the box from him and poured herself a bowl. "And you woke me up, you noisy--"  
  
"I don't have to eat, but I can," George replied brightly. "And at least I saved you some. Give me a break, will you? I haven't sitten in a kitchen and eaten Lucky Charms since the morning before I took the long sleep." He grinned at her, then dug into his food again, chewing with gusto.  
  
Paige sighed and sat across from him at the table, taking her food with her. "You are one disgustingly noisy eater," she told him, eating her breakfast.  
  
"Ouch!" George replied good-naturedly. "How is it that you're in such a grumpy mood on a day when there's no school? Maybe you're sick." He leaned across the table and placed one cool, ghostly hand on her forehead. "I ought to drive you to the hospital," he told her, a look of mock seriousness on his face.  
  
Paige smiled...she couldn't help it. George's good mood was infectuous. "With *your* driving record?" she asked him. "No way! I'd end up floating two inches off the floor before we even got out of the driveway." She hurried to finish her cereal. "Got big plans today," she told him between mouthfulls. "We're going to see the Northville High Annual Rummage Sale."  
  
George looked at her skeptically. "Rummage Sale?" he repeated, his brown- grey eyes looking at her with keen disbelief. "We're going to go spend your money on people's old junk? Please! Let's go shopping somewhere that at least has *new* stuff."  
  
"Old stuff is great," Paige replied. "And maybe we'll see Brad there, too." She sighed happily as she thought of the football player who had actually called her last night. He'd not only talked to her about the movie (which she hadn't exactly enjoyed...but what did she think they were going to go see, 'Riding in Cars with Boys'?) but had also mentioned that he and his cheerleading girlfriend, Jessica, had broken up and he was single again.  
  
"Brad," George repeated, grimacing. "What do you see in him, anyway? He's a big bulk of muscle with little brainpower and less personality." He sulkily sat on the kitchen counter, folding his arms over his chest.  
  
Paige grinned. "Are you *jealous*?" she asked him, her green eyes lighting up.  
  
George looked at Paige anxiously. "No!"  
  
"Yes you are!" she crowed. "Jealous, jealous, jealous!" Paige stuck out her tongue at George, who blushed. "I'm going to go get dressed," she told him. "If you're coming with me, meet me at the front door in five minutes." She ran upstairs and George floated through the kitchen to wait at the front door. ******* "It's junk, Paige, don't buy it!" George muttered in Paige's ear. "Look at it...the paint's chipping off! It's plastic!" The ghost hovered urgently behind Paige's left ear, glaring at the pendant held in Paige's hand as if it had offended him. His oboe-playing charge was seriously considering buying it...and George, as an 'expert' on the supernatural, held quite firmly that the smooth rose quartz crescent moon was as likely a source of magic as a stale dinner roll.  
  
"Shut up, George," the oboe player muttered from the side of her mouth. "I know what I'm doing. And it's my money anyhow, you old woman." She shot the ghost a green-eyed glare.  
  
The person behind the stall looked startled. "Did you just call me an old woman?" the young Hispanic girl asked, her silky black brows shooting up.  
  
Paige's cream-colored, freckled cheeks turned pink. "No," she replied hurriedly. "I was just...er...talking to myself." She glared again at George, who pretended that he didn't notice. "Here, I'll take it," she told the girl, handing her the five dollars being asked for the pendant. She then fastened its silver chain around her neck.  
  
"Thank you! It's very lucky, really!" the girl called after Paige as she left. George muttered something under his breath.  
  
"Let's go get a snack from Go-Mart, huh?" she asked George once they had left the Rummage Sale. "I'm dying of thirst." She stepped off the sidewalk and hurriedly crossed the blazing parking lot, grateful that she still had some money left over.  
  
"Aah..." George and Paige both sighed simultaneously as the door opened and a blast of frigid air wafted over them. "I love air-conditioning," George sighed appreciatively. He lingered over the candy bars as Paige headed for the coolers where the 20-ounce bottles of soda were kept. "Can I have one?" he asked Paige as she strode over to see what he was looking at.  
  
"Sure," Paige said. "Just point to it so people don't think that I'm making candy levitate now, too." George pointed at a Butterfinger and Paige grabbed a Snickers bar for herself. Scarcely had she started for the register before she bumped into Brad.  
  
"Paige, hey!" Brad said, smiling down at her. "I see that you've got good tastes."  
  
"Snickers are my favorite," she replied with an idiotic grin.  
  
"I was talking about the Butterfinger," Brad replied, confused. "Hey, would you get me one, too? I'm short on cash and I'd be *so* grateful."  
  
"Sure," Paige sighed, her green eyes dreamy, while George scowled darkly and stormed off down the aisle. Paige grabbed another Butterfinger and cheerfully paid for it, then handed it to Brad.  
  
"Thanks," he commented with a smile, ruffling her hair again before walking out the door.  
  
Paige stared after him with a somewhat stupid look on her face before shaking herself and resuming her walk home. George sulkily floated beside her. "I can't believe you actually paid for that candy bar, only to give it to that buffoon," he said, biting into his butterfinger viciously.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Paige replied, rubbing the rose quartz amulet that hung around her neck. "See? Lucky already." 


End file.
